Infected
by LemmyShine
Summary: When the rage virus crosses the sea, what will a seventeen-year-old girl be able to do? Follow Laura-Mae on her horrible journey into the world of the infected.
1. Chapter 1

She was almost certain that her life was over. Her father now lay in front of her on the floor, dead, in his own pool of infected blood. She'd had to kill him. As much as it fucked with her mind, she knew that that's what he would have wanted her to do. Now, she was left alone in her small house, screams and shrieks filling her ears from just outside the window from which she tried to stay as far away from as possible. She thought it was over. The infection had started in England... How had it made it to the United States so quickly? How had it made its way to the States at all?

It made sense that Georgia was one of the first states that it hit, being a coastal state and all. That didn't make it any more acceptable, though.

All she could do was cry. Cry and pray. All she could do was cry because her father was dead and pray that perhaps the infected wouldn't make their way into her now closed front doors, both locked in three places. Her cell phone didn't work because of her stupid fucking teenaged ways not plugging it into its damned charger like her father had told her to.

"...Dad..." she muttered softly. Her hands clenched tightly to the 9mm her father had been given for Christmas. She remembered him teaching her how to aim it, how to shoot. She'd hoped that she would never have to use it, but she never dreamed that she would have to use it on her own...her own fucking dad. She let out another short sob - a sort of animal grunt of pure terror and a hopeless feeling of emptiness and sadness. Somewhere, she thought, her mother was out there, and she wondered if she would ever see her again.

Then she knew what she had to do. She remembered where her father kept all of his "first aid" things, in his large black backpack. She dumped out all of its heavy contents, and repacked the necessary things, trying her hardest to ignore the screams and primal roars and grunts from just outside the window. She packed carefully: a shake-up flashlight (and was thankful she even had one), her phone and its charger (in case of any electricity anywhere), a couple of sodas and some candy for sugar, a couple of bottles of water, some dry foods and some canned foods, some spare clothes and a spare pair of shoes, the family first-aid kit, her inhaler (asthma would probably be the death of her, she figured), and...most importantly...her father's gun and as many gun clips as she could possibly find in her tiny household.

Now that she was packed, she made sure her attire was ready and fit. A loose-fitting black shirt (to blend in under darker skies), one of her father's army jackets, some blue jeans (they were the best thing she had), a pair of white socks, her tennis shoes, and an old, Vietnam-styled army helmet made of a thin sheet of steel. It may not have been the most protective thing, but it would at least slow those things from biting into her head like a fucking apple.

She was as ready as she thought she could be. Now, finally, she could properly mourn for her father. She couldn't kiss him goodbye, she couldn't hug him goodbye. All she could do was brush a hand against his face. As soon as she felt the tears welling, there was a loud banging on both of her front doors. She looked up quickly, then heard the unmistakable grunts and screams of the infected. They banged and banged, and finally, the window was shattered open. She couldn't suppress a shriek as she ran towards her bathroom, opening the window in it and climbing out, almost getting snagged by the backpack she wore.

"Fuck!!" she screamed as she finally wriggled her way out, onto the ground, and over the chain-link fence into the small parking lot of the apartment complex next door. She didn't stop there, though. Her feet carried her as fast as they possibly could, onto the abandoned street and up the hill. The infected followed. She didn't dare to look back, of course, but by the sound of it she guessed there were already ten on her trail, and more were quickly coming. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, and a fluttery feeling settled in her throat, like she was about to scream or cry. No noise emitted from her, though. Her eyes were locked on the path ahead, and she made sure to take notice of things going on in her peripheral sight as well. The infected had already spread well throughout Columbus. For a split second she was going to think of all her friends and family who might still be alive, but then she stumbled, and her heart almost burst open from the sheer terror she felt rippling through her. She decided that her thoughts would slow her no more.

On up the hill, past the Burger King, past the Aflac, past the gas stations, and she was quickly growing tired. Slowly, one by one, the infected had divided, pursuing easier victims or joining groups of their own who had already caught one. She'd decided that now it was at least safe enough for her to look back. Five were chasing her at the moment. She had five to lose. Slowly she heard another split off into a separate route, chasing down and biting into a small boy, and another infected followed in suit, followed by one other, then another. Now she had one. This one was persistent, apparently. She remembered that he was the one who had shattered her window, the first one she'd locked eyes with other than her father. It glared at her now, even more intensely, and it seemed to start running faster. She suppressed her scream this time, and did not hesitate to force herself to run faster. Her legs made long strides, so long that her hamstrings felt as though they might snap at any second.

'No,' she thought, 'I can't die now. I have to survive. I know it's possible, I know it is! I've heard of people doing it before! I'm --' Her thoughts were quickly cut short by, once again, a stumble, but this time a fall as well.

"Fuck!!" she screamed. No, no, no! This was far too early for her to go. No, this was the beginning of her journey. Her arms strained, her heart pounded, and her legs screamed as she got up and started to desperately run again. The infected was closer now. Too close. No...this was it. This was the end. Her sight blurred, her ears were ringing, her head was throbbing. Was she going to die? This soon?

Then there was a gunshot. It snapped her into her senses, and she realized that...the infected who had followed her so closely but a few moments ago was dead on the street.

"Over here!" someone shouted. Quickly her head turned, and she saw a man standing on top of some sort of SUV. She didn't want to run. The thought of picking her feet back up, lifting a leg again almost made her puke. But she knew that she had to. And so she did. Every single muscle in her leg ached, and her knees creaked against their bony counterparts. The man, hand outstretched, grabbed her and yanked her up before she even had time to thank him.

He immediately took her by both shoulders (being sure that the hand holding the gun was more delicately placed) and shook her, "Listen to me," he began, very sternly, "you see this line of cars right here?" She looked past his shoulder for a moment, then nodded and looked back at him. He continued, "Run. Stay on top of the fucking cars and don't look back. Run until you cross the bridge to Alabama and keep on running. You got it? Just trust me. You're not gonna' die here." Alabama? That was a straight shot, sure, but a long way for running distance...especially non-stop running...

An infected screamed. He pushed her, shot the infected, and then paid no mind as she began to run. Following simple instructions; that was the key to survival. That, and paying attention to the little voice inside of your fucking head that divides right and wrong.

The cars were spaced in a varied manner. Some where right against the next, and some were car-lengths apart, but it was nothing she couldn't jump. While this fact surprised her somewhat, she dared not take the time to wallow in the pride. She was more focused on running as fast as she possibly fucking could. Then the wheezing set in, and she could hear it and feel it. A cold, restricting feeling in her throat. She began to wonder if the man was telling the truth. But then she almost lost her balance and fell.

'That's what you fucking get!' she screamed to herself quickly, and she continued sprinting. The infected were nowhere to be seen. There was nothing alive to be seen. That didn't stop her, though. Nothing could stop her.


	2. Chapter 2

It lunged forward and grabbed at his ankle. A bullet quickly met the beast's skull and flew through its head, splattering filth out onto the street and onto the other few infected who were close behind it.

"Fucking bastards," he muttered to himself as he fired at yet another one from where he stood atop the SUV. He would be running out of bullets soon, and he knew that only more and more infected would be coming. He had to just save his ammo and run. Quickly, he looked over his shoulder to see that the young woman from earlier was quite a distance away from him. Finally, he gritted his teeth, fired at one more, and then chased after her. He knew that she would need his help eventually. After all, she had already looked so exhausted and helpless. He also knew that she would have no idea about the three other people he had already found or where their base was.

"Keep going!!" he shouted out to here. She gave no sign that she heard him except for the fact that she did, in fact, keep going. Unfortunately for the both of them, though, the infected he had previously been shooting at were now chasing him, though still from the ground. None of them had decided to climb atop the vehicles, thankfully enough.

And so, he ran and ran, and made sure to keep one eye on the girl. For some reason...he wanted her to live. He thought, perhaps, it was simply because he wanted some credit for something. Maybe he only wanted to be a hero. Either way, he would make sure that she stayed alive for as long as he could help it.

Finally, he saw that she had come up to the last few cars, and the bridge over the Chattahoochee river was well in sight.

"Straight over the bridge!" Same as the last time, she hopped right off of the last car and kept right on going, straight on through the four-way intersection, around two or three more cars, and onto the bridge.

"Get the fuck away from me!" he screamed down at the infected that followed closely, grunting and screaming, hoping that he would lose his balance and become an easy meal. He refused, though, to let them have what they wanted. Or perhaps...they would win. A hand grabbed his ankle and yanked him down. He fell, hard, his face hitting against the windshield of a smaller car and cracking the glass. A few more hands grabbed at him, and he screamed and writhed, letting glass shards rip into his cheeks. They tugged at his shirt, scratched at his arms and legs. There were at least ten of them crowding around. He ripped one limb away from them at a time and made sure to punch and kick as much as possible, and he even felt the satisfying crunch of a nose under his knuckles. He grinned, let out a roar of triumph, and stood, stumbling once more, and leaped onto a minivan. His breath came in as short gasps as he continued to run, and he thanked the merciless God in heaven that he hadn't been bitten.

His now overly-exhausted legs finally carried him over the last car with a leap, and it was his turn to duck and weave through the few cars that had been so carelessly scattered amongst the intersection. The infected who had followed him so closely before now screamed in frustration as they bumped against each other clumsily, trying to get through the forest of vehicles.

He laughed. He laughed a strong, hardy laugh with enough enthusiasm to fill up a whole fucking septic tank. He saw that the girl had slowed in gait quite considerably, and...at the end of the long bridge, she had finally stopped. Then she began to run back towards him.

"How the fuck did they get over the bridge so fast!" she screamed to him. His heart sunk. There were only more? How many more?

He voiced his question, "How many?"

"At least a hundred!" Dread filled her voice, and as they got closer he could see the tears running out of her widened eyes. After a few moments, they met up, and she was shaking all over and wheezing fiercely. Quickly, she took an inhaler from her backpack (reaching over her shoulder into one of the more easily-accessible pockets) and took two great puffs from it.

"Listen," he said quickly, sternly, "follow me closely, okay? I know where it's safe. Just keep running. Don't look at anything expect for my back, all right?" She nodded, let out a scoff of a sob, and then he took no time at all to begin running. With another, louder sob she followed, whimpering slightly. He couldn't help but feel sorry for her, but if she wanted to live she was just going to have to deal with it.

Now came the hard part. He took his gun in both hands and ran straight forward. The infected were running towards them, having seen the girl earlier, and all he could do was shoot in a straight line and keep running. He grunted and shouted every now and then, and tried his best not to be very distracted by the short, terrified screams the girl let out. She must have been doing well, considering the fact that she kept right on screaming, and her voice didn't sound like it was getting farther away either.

Somehow, some way, he was keeping the infected from them, and finally he turned into an alleyway in between a Piggly Wiggly and some common, but sturdy-looking building.

"Open the door! It's me! I've got someone with me!" And so, a door swung open, and a strong arm was outstretched. The man who had previously held the gun now turned briefly to take a firm hold of the girl's hand, and he was quickly yanked into the place, and the girl was dragged in behind him. Then, he quickly turned around to help another man to press against the door as they both locked the three locks on it. It wasn't time to rest just yet, though.

"Come on!" a woman said to them quickly from where she stood, holding a large door to some sort of underground shelter open. He pushed the young woman with the army helmet towards it, and she stumbled forward and finally clunked her way down the wooden stairs. The two men followed, and then the woman did, closing the door behind her on the way in. There was a chain-link lock on the two wooden doors, and she made quick work of locking it.

They were safe for now.


	3. Chapter 3

Finally...she could relax. Her knees reluctantly bent, popping as they did so, as she kneeled down to sit on her legs at the base of the staircase. Another two puffs of the inhaler did little to calm her short breaths.

The whole group was deathly silent. The only thing that she could hear, and cared to hear was the loud banging of the infected pounding their fists against the door upstairs. The noise lasted for what seemed like hours, but finally it faded, leaving the few humans in a desolate silence. She took this time to study the people who had saved her, for she knew she would be spending much time with them (hopefully, and if all worked out well).

First, she laid eyes on the man who had saved her in the first place. He was a tall, strong-looking black man with a face that told his age to be around forty or so. His white t-shirt was stained with fresh, infected blood, and he wore a pair of old army-jeans. He leaned against a wall, catching his own breath, and his pistol was clenched into a tight fist.

Her eyes then moved to the next man she had seen during these thirty-or-so minutes. He was a white man, wearing your standard army uniform of the twenty-first century. Perhaps he was visiting from over-seas. Silently, she prayed that he hadn't had to lose any loved ones, but knew that he must have by the looks of him. The depths of his pale blue eyes held nothing much misery, terror, and - somehow - strength. The poor man looked to be in his early twenties.

Now, the woman who had helped them earlier looked like your average, modern, southern housewife. She had straight, dark-brown hair and brown eyes to match. Her face had hints of wrinkles here and there, but they did not make her look any older than thirty. Her eyes...her eyes openly gave away the fact that she had lost someone. Her brows were constantly furrowed, and her eyes were watery and dazed. Her long-sleeved black shirt was torn around the bottom and at the ends of the sleeves, and her blue-jeans were stained with blood. Poor thing had even lost a fake fingernail or two.

And finally, there was one more man. He looked to be in this early twenties or so, same as the man in the army. This man, however, looked as though he had only survived so far by sheer luck. He had spiky blonde hair, gelled far too much for its own good, and bright green eyes. His attire was that of the typical wannabe punk. The kind that failed miserably. She couldn't see how he still wore his studded collar and bracelets. He looked plain silly, actually.

"What's your name?" the army man asked her.

She looked up at him, and stared for a few moments, but finally answered, "Laura-Mae."

"Huh. Well, I'm Adam. This is James," he motioned towards the man who had saved her in the first place, "Julie," to the woman, "and Thomas. What you got in that backpack?" May as well skip straight to business in a survival situation, she presumed.

"Well...nothing too important." She didn't know why, but she felt like she may have been more comfortable talking to James for the time being.

"Anything and everything is important right now, you got it?" Adam looked angry for a moment, but he quickly calmed himself and repeated his question, "What do you have?"

"...Some sodas and candy...some water...some first-aid stuff...a gun."

"A gun! Huh!" Adam grinned, "Well, hand it over! What kind is it?"

She didn't want to hand it over, "A nine millimeter...Why can't I just keep it?"

"Like you would even know how to aim the fucking thing!!" he shouted, and caused her to jump a bit. At that moment she decided she didn't like Adam. Not one little bit.

James put his own gun down and walked towards Laura-Mae, "Adam, calm down. She doesn't have to share anything right now if she doesn't want to. She'll come around." He looked at her, "Now, how old are you?"

"Seventeen... Can I ask you something?"

"Sure." James busied himself with finding an appropriate place to sit, and he finally decided that the top of a wooden crate would suffice.

"Well...maybe more than one thing. First of all, why didn't we just hop in a car and drive here? Or somewhere safe for that matter?"

"Listen, kid," he smiled, "if you have the time to check all those cars to see which one's runnin', much less find one before the infected get to you, then more power to ya."

"All right... Where are we?"

"Not sure. Adam seems to know, though."

Adam smiled, knowing it was finally his turn to speak again, "Okay, so check this shit out. There's a gas station in front of this place, right? Turns out, the guy that owned it was a whackjob with too much money on his hands, so he builds a fuckin' bomb shelter or whatever behind the place. We're lucky bastards because of it, though, ain't we?"

"Are you sure it's not safe to go out, yet?" Julie asked softly, not even seeming to realize she was interrupting a conversation. Her question was directed at no one in particular, and her voice sounded...lost.

"It will never be safe to go back out there. You here me, Julie?" Adam stood up quickly, as though bracing himself to catch her if she tried to run.

"But Alex might be out there..."

"Alex is dead!"

"Adam!" James shouted. The soldier looked over at him angrily, then took his place sitting on the floor across from Laura-Mae once more.

"She told us he was fucking dead. Why is she being so retarded?"

"Alex..." Laura-Mae had to divert her eyes as Julie went into a fit of screaming sobs. In fact, all of them simply diverted their eyes.

Again, the silence consumed them once Julie's crying had stopped. Now all they could hear were the muffled screams of the infected and their victims. Laura-Mae had moved to a corner now, huddled with her knees up close to her face, and she rested her hands atop her army helmet. This was all so fucked up. It was all so fucked up in so many ways.

"I had to kill my dad," she finally said. Only the three men looked over at her. Julie was lost in her own thoughts, someplace far, far away.

"I'm sorry to hear that," James murmured. He did sound very sad for her in all honesty.

"Did you shoot 'im in the head or the chest or what?" Adam laughed.

"Shut up you fucking prick," Laura-Mae said angrily.

"What? ...What did you just fucking say to me?"

"I told you to shut the fuck up!!" she screamed.

"You little bitch!!" Adam shouted, standing up.

"You're gonna' be the first one of us to die!" He stopped, and then glared at her as she continued to speak in a hushed, hurried tone. "You're gonna' be the first one to fucking die, because you're too fucking selfish and pigheaded to think straight. You think any of us are gonna' care about you at the end of the day? No. I'd leave you behind in a fucking heartbeat. You're just a sorry excuse for a human being that had to drop out of high school, and all you could do was join the military, am I right?"

"If it weren't for me you'd be fucking dead right now! In fact, if it weren't for me, you would be living under some kind of fucking dictatorship!"

"Are you fucking kidding me? If we wouldn't care about you," she stood up now and took a step closer to him, "do you think the people in the military would? No. You're just another fuckin' name on the list, buddy. If you died on the field you'd just get stepped on. You think you're special because you're in the army? You're not a fucking general. You're not even a private. You're just..."

"Just what?"

"Scum." Her hazel eyes were filled to the brim with hatred. She noticed now, no longer blinded by rage, that James had stood as well to intervene if he had needed to. In all honesty, Laura-Mae knew that she couldn't take on a soldier even if she put everything she had into it. In fact, she was never a very disrespectful sort of person either, but there was just something about Adam that made her want to feed him to the infected herself. He made no move to correct her, though. He just sat down, cross-legged and folded his arms across his chest with a tiny smirk dancing on his lips.

For the first time she'd ever heard, Thomas spoke, "I guess we're staying here for the night?"

James was the first to answer with a nod, "Yeah. We won't be able to leave until daylight. So unless we want to share ghost stories I suggest we all go ahead and try to sleep soon...or now, preferably."

"When can we go and find our friends and family?" Laura-Mae questioned softly from where she had re-situated herself in the corner. James was silent at first.

Then he sighed and answered, "...Never." That was a hard hit to take... Why? Why did this have to happen in the first place?

"Stupid fucking animal-rights activists," she finally muttered. She looked over at Adam, expecting some sort of quick retort, but only noticed that he had fallen asleep, right there in the middle of the floor. "You know, if it weren't for stupid, selfish people like that, the virus never would have spread. It just goes to show you that one fucking moron can send the whole world to hell. I mean, you have chimps in a lab, right? Okay, I can see how that's wrong. But I mean, if someone had, like, fucking told them they had a fucking virus that would kill them, you would think that they'd leave them alone. It's just like fucking PETA. Now there's a group of terrorists for you."

No one replied. She could tell that James had been listening, though, by the somber look on his face. She looked over to Thomas and Julie, and both of them had fallen asleep as well. She blinked, slowly, with heavy eyelids.

"Goodnight, James..." she said softly, and before long she was asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a long time before she woke up. Her eyelids slowly parted, though, and she quickly made a move to wipe the drool from her mouth. Her rear and her legs were asleep, seeing as she'd fallen asleep in the same position from earlier: sitting, huddled, in the corner. She tried to stand, only to fall down, quickly. She couldn't...feel her legs at all, really, and she was beginning to wonder when the feeling would return to them.

She realized that no one else was awake yet, and she began to wonder what time it was. How long had she been sleeping? Three hours? Twelve? One thousand? She hoped, for a split second, that maybe all of it was a dream. Maybe she could walk outside, and walk straight home, and give her dad a hug and a kiss and tell him how much she loved him. He wouldn't be infected. She would be able to call her friends, chat with them like the average teenager she was.

But it was not so. Soon, Julie woke up, and she looked over at Laura-Mae through sunken eyes. Laura-Mae could tell that Julie wasn't going to last much longer. In fact, she knew that, if anything, Julie might be the one to get them all killed. She might just be the one to walk outside and let the infected poor in, or the one to scream out when everyone was supposed to be quiet. It wasn't until after these thoughts that Laura-Mae realized she'd been staring at the poor woman. So, she looked away and then tried to stand up again.

Her legs were stable enough to hold her again. She gave a stiff, but oh-so-satisfying stretch, and an exhausted yawn escaped her lips. Her mouth was dry. Being so, she decided to get a bottle of water from her backpack and take a swallow.

"Gonna' share any of your shit with us?" Oh, how she hated that voice. Adam was awake, and just when she was beginning to think that perhaps they could leave him behind to be devoured by the infected. And, so, she didn't reply. Just kept right on chugging down that water. "Listen," he said to her, "I think we got off on the wrong foot last night. See, you need to be nicer to me. The fact of the matter is this: You need me more than I need you. And if anyone's going to be doing any "leaving behind," then it'll be me doing it to you, all right? I've been through basic training, and a little further than that, so don't think you can mouth off to me just 'cause Daddy's dead, 'kay? I'm not gonna' have a little shit like you runnin' the show. If any of us survive it's gonna' be me and James. Not that psycho Julie bitch, not that little Thomas prick, and sure as hell not you."

Laura-Mae was about to open her mouth to retort, but another voice beat her to it: "Is that what you really think?" It was Julie who'd asked.

Adam looked a bit surprised at first, obviously not having known Julie was awake, but he only turned to face her, "...Yeah, Julie. I mean, let's face it. You're crazy. Your kids dead, right? You told us that when me and James found you. And yet, here you go, wondering where he is. He is dead, Julie. Get it through your head. Junior ain't gonna' grow up to be the next fucking president, and we all know it. You're gonna' be the first one to go, I bet. I mean, even Helmet, here, knows it," he motioned towards Laura-Mae with a thumb.

Julie looked at her for a moment, and the two females locked glances, but then the older woman looked back towards Adam, "...All right," she murmured.

"Julie..." Laura-Mae began hesitantly. She didn't know what to say, though. Even though she...hated it, she agreed with Adam almost one hundred percent. She would be the last to admit it, though, and she would never have worded it so harshly.

"We have to leave soon." James's voice made her jump a bit. How long had he been awake? Either way, he was absolutely right.

"Yeah, yeah. But I really would like to know if Helmet's gonna' share her shit," Adam griped.

"She won't need to. There's a Piggly Wiggly right next to us. We'll go there, stock up, and then see if we can't find a working car around here. Now that the sun's up it should be safer."

"All right. So, you and me gonna' go check the place out first or what?"

"Yeah, sure." James then turned to look at Laura-Mae, "You're in charge in case anything happens, all right?" Adam rolled his eyes as he stood up and stretched, but Laura-Mae simply nodded. She hated the thought of James...not coming back. In all reality, she would much rather be left with only Adam than with Julie or Thomas (thinking in a survival-oriented manner, of course). Just because she was the one with the gun didn't mean she was all about shooting at infected. Hell, she wasn't coordinated enough to do all that shit! In fact, she was even convinced that yesterday - all of the athletic sort of things she accomplished - was just a hoax! She was never an athletic person! She sure as hell wasn't fit!

But she was going to survive, by God.

And so, she watched helplessly as James and Adam walked up those wooden stairs, and out of the slanted, bomb-shelter-styled doors. Her heart sank.

"Laura-Mae...?"

"Yes, Julie?"

"Am I going to die soon?"

She was shocked. Never in her life had Laura-Mae even imagined that a grown woman would be asking her such a question. She had never ever expected herself to be in a rank superior to an elder of hers. Honestly? She had no idea what to say to her.

In fact, the only thing she could possibly say was, "...We're all going to die soon enough, Julie."


End file.
